Flowers for You
by LazyFlutist
Summary: She wondered what he would do during their one-hour break; he wondered what kind of flowers to get her. LloydxJules, one-shot


**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Breakout Kings.**

_"Go buy her some flowers, and keep me out of it." _He had a few bucks, was standing outside of a flower shop, and could only think of her. He also had time to kill, what with their break they were given from the recent case. What kind of flowers _would_ she like? Daisies? Carnations? Roses? No, roses were the language of love—he wasn't ready to give her something like that. And carnations were close to roses, which would compromise his feelings for her. Daisies were simplistic, and she was not the epitome of simple. So what could he get? He was a genius, but could not figure out what flowers to get her. _This will be the death of me._

A worker came by. "Sir?" he glanced at her. She looked young, perhaps in her early 20s. She was doing this job to get by with either tuition loans or it was a family shop and she was the next in line to own the place. Judging by the other workers in the store that he had noticed, the likely answer was the first assumption. She wore a simple white smock, with a daisy on the pocket. It was appropriate attire. "Is there something you are looking for?" It was a simple question, but it had a difficult answer.

What _was_ he looking for in this shop? Flowers, for Julianne. But what kind of flowers? He could not tell the woman what he was looking for; he was stuck in one spot and couldn't figure out the puzzle. If she were a criminal, could he solve it? "Flowers," he said to the girl. She smiled.

"Well, you are at the right store. What kind?" he shrugged.

"I am at a loss at that question, miss," he started. She listened. "See, there is a woman at my…work place, and I see her for only a small, limited time each time I work. I've grown fond of her, but these flowers out here are not ones I can see myself giving her at the time. Roses and carnations convey love, and I am not prepared for love. Daisies are simple, with no attachments. It'd be like giving a friend a piece of gum and leaving it at that," the girl nodded.

"So what is she like?" he felt his heart pound against his chest. He could see her down the street, around the corner, at the coffee shop, next to him, everywhere and anywhere. She still had problems, she was dealing with them, but _they_ were dealing with them. This girl was asking what she looked like, her personality—not the baggage she had. But she was imperfect, something he never experienced before. He only knew of perfect women (perfection was a trivial pursuit, however, and no woman was perfect), and somehow, with her imperfections, she was perfect. Sure, she was trying to better herself now, but he would not care if she stayed the same.

The girl looked impatient, so he replied: "She is gorgeous, very stunning when the sun hits her eyes, and she has these brown eyes that compliment her blonde hair so well." The girl smiled.

"It looks like you really like this girl," he smiled back.

"Yeah, that is a safe assumption," her smile grew. He looked back at the car that was waiting for him; a man was staring straight forward, patiently waiting for him to pick up some flowers (he could guess that the other two in the car were making snide remarks about him at the flower shop, which would not surprise him). They were only a few blocks away from the office; did anyone tell her they were going here? He turned back around, in case she was out walking for some reason, perhaps doing her time exercise he suggested (he still smiles at that, how she actually took the suggestion he had for her). When he saw the girl, she was holding flowers.

"I think these are perfect for her, then." _Perfect_, he thought. He hated that word now, because perfect was still a trivial thing to say. The flowers that were in her hands, they were yellow, with thick green stems holding the petals together. "The way you light up when you talk about her," he jumped out of his thoughts. Was it really that obvious when he talked about her? "and the way you described her, I think these are your flowers." The girl handed him the bouquet—they smelled like her. So, maybe he didn't like the word, but they were perfect.

He handed her the six dollars for the flowers, told her his thanks, and ran back to the car. When he got into the backseat, of course Shea and Erica were making comments again about the flowers, but when he looked back outside, the girl was still smiling. And he noticed he was too. He just needed to get back to the office before Julianne did, and he was set.

0o0

The elevator doors opened. She was late. She knew she was going to get some kind of punishment for being late, especially when Charlie specifically told her to be back within one hour. And here she was, walking in with her purse in hand, fifteen minutes late. She went on a walk, and lost track of time. Her anxiety was improving, seeing how she could easily walk up to someone and ask for the time. She knew she had to thank Lloyd for that advice later on in life.

_Lloyd, _she thought. Something about that smart convict made her think about everything and anything she could. She wondered what he did with the one hour break they were given, what he could've done instead, if he had fun while being out, enjoying life outside of prison…it kept her up at night sometimes, too. But she didn't want to go into anything. She was focused on the case and Charlie's anger about her being late; that was something to worry about.

Julianne prepared for the worst, but instead found an empty office for her liking. She dug around in her purse for her cell phone. Once found, she looked down at her screen; there were no calls or texts. She wondered if the cons were sent back to prison or if they were out looking for the man up on their board. She heard a cough; her attention was brought back to what she thought was an empty office. Instead, she looked over at a far desk and saw Lloyd with his head down, just sitting there.

How long had he been there? She assumed the fifteen minutes she was late. When she stepped out of the elevator, his head popped up. She immediately froze once they made eye-contact (she wasn't ready for something like that) and watched him spin in her chair. He tried getting up, but the handcuff around his wrist was the thing that kept him away from her. She didn't try walking over to him, but insisted that she keep her distance for a brief moment, to compose herself.

Where were the others? "The others went out to find the guy, and left us here to solve yet another puzzle, in order to track the convict. Mainly, I'd be figuring out the puzzle while you enter into your computer what the puzzle means and where to go from there, but…" she noticed him rambling again. She wanted to start walking, and she did try, but Lloyd stopped her in mid-sentence of his ramble. "Oh, the keys are right next to you, so if you would be so kind as to let me out of these handcuffs—I've grown a bit used to the metal, of course, but…" she looked down at the desk beside her.

Of course he was locked up; he's a convict, and if he were to escape, then there'd be two people on the run instead of one, and who knows where Lloyd would go (probably a casino, she assumed). She lightly picked up the set of keys and looked back at the convict. He was talking to himself, something about how handcuffs would be the death of his career. She smiled; something clicked inside her that made things okay, to be standing in a room with a convict, all alone.

She started to walk. The light clicks and taps of her heels making contact with the cemented floor didn't stop Lloyd from talking (he managed to block out noises when he talked; it helped when he was a professor). When she got closer and closer to him, something crept up her spine, like anxiety. She was somewhat anxious to be back by his side, not necessarily a romantic kind of anxiety, but more of a comforting response to his presence. She made it to her desk in no time (she didn't even play with her scarf the entire walk there) and saw something on his lap.

"What are those?" she asked. He stopped; whenever she spoke, he wouldn't dare talk against her. It was always so lovely to hear her voice. It was the one constant in his life he managed to look forward to, instead of the days inside his prison cell. He didn't have to look down at his lap to say what they were.

"They are flowers, Julianne. Specifically the marigold genus, which are a great substitute from the usual flowers they have at that shop, like roses and tulips," he simply said. She had to ask the next question, too.

"Are those for me?" He lifted his free hand and quickly had them up toward her. She could smell the great scent they had (it smelled like a perfume she usually wore) and saw the bright yellow color sparkle against what usually is the dingy office she's grown to know.

He only stared into her eyes. She didn't understand why he bought flowers for her, but she gladly accepted them. She felt their fingertips brush against each other, and she cradled the bouquet in her arms. "They're beautiful," she said, staring at the flowers. She looked back at him and noticed the smile on his face.

"Yes, they compliment you quite well, Julianne," she blushed, flustered at the comment. She knelt down beside him and unlocked the handcuff from his wrist, and while he rubbed the wrist that was trapped, she looked down at the flowers once more.

"You really think so?" she whispered. He noticed the pure smile and joy radiate off her face, and she couldn't take her eyes off the flowers. He smiled and leaned forward in the chair. She casually looked into his eyes and kept the small smile on her face.

"I know so," she looked back at her flowers and thanked him.

**So, a little fluffy, nothing big. This was something written during work, because there's nothing to do when the store is dead. Seriously.**

**Also, it's just for fun. I don't expect people to go, "YOU NAILED THEIR CHARACTERS TO A T" because I didn't. Pretty sure I didn't, who knows. You could say this is a little prequel to "Reassure the Unsure", but I'm willing to bet it's not LOL**

**Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Who knows, I might make a long story for these characters (OTP in this series, seriously).**

**LF  
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